Affaire de Coeur
by AbsentAngel
Summary: "I love you. I'll always love you, but I can't be yours when you were never mine." A companion piece to milkintheam's "Paramour" [NaLu] [Modern AU] [Oneshot]


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 _Angst Week Prompt #5: Gone Forever_

 _Warning: Contains Characters Cheating_

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 **(:)(A)(:)**

 **Affaire de Coeur**

 **By AbsentAngel**

 **(:)(A)(:)**

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He isn't sure when it happened, but one day he found his eyes lingering a little bit longer than then they should, and the urge to _touch_ her became more than just friendly. He kept it to himself, tried to bury the truth of the matter beneath layers of denial and skewed reasoning, but it was there. Even when Lisanna (his girlfriend of practically _forever)_ was beside him, he would still find himself admiring how beautiful Lucy was when she smiled.

Then, on the creaking swing in the empty playground, the words "I'm in love with you" escaped her pretty pink lips, and something in him broke.

She was drunk – _he_ was drunk – but it didn't change the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing when he fell into her arms that night. He knew that it was Lucy he was kissing. Understood that, even as his teeth grazed her fluttering pulse, he should stop. Underneath the buzz of alcohol was an insistent whisper telling him that he was going to ruin _everything._ He was risking the best friend he had, laying their friendship on the line in exchange for the taste of her. Part of him knew, even then, that they would never be able to go back. Still, her lips were drugging and too sweet – the sounds she made too lyrical – for him to stop. In Lucy, he both lost and found himself.

He didn't think of Lisanna until the morning.

Even as Lucy moaned his name beneath him, as her nails bit pleasant pricks into his skin, he didn't think once of the blue eyed girl or the pain his moment of weakness would cause. The realization that his girlfriend was one of the last things on his mind terrified him in ways that few things could.

The fact that he couldn't bring himself to regret what had happened between him and Lucy scared him even more.

He should have regretted it – he should have wished it never happened – but even as his heart raced with remorse for the amount of damage he caused, he just _couldn't_. He couldn't look at Lucy laying peacefully between her scattered sheets with dawn's light tangling in her hair, and wish it had never happened.

And he hated himself for it – he _still_ hates himself for it.

So he ran. He told himself, told her, that it was a mistake – his _mistake_. He had Lisanna. Sweet, beautiful Lisanna that was probably waiting for his phone call at that very moment, and he couldn't hurt her like that. He wouldn't let himself slip again. Somehow he would find a way to see Lucy as his best friend – _only_ his best friend – and things would go back to how they were before.

Except they didn't.

Days went by without him hearing or seeing his blonde friend, and in his chest a heaviness he didn't know existed started to weigh him down. Every one of his girlfriend's smiles made guilt churn in his gut like rancid butter, and he couldn't even stand to look at his reflection without feeling anger bubble beneath his skin. Anger towards himself, because he had screwed everything up and he didn't know how to fix it. All he knew was that he missed Lucy – missed her with a hunger that kept him up at night. Every few hours he would find himself staring at the blank screen of his phone. He wanted to call, wanted to hear her voice and hear her tell him that everything between them was fine, but something held him back. Part of him was afraid she wouldn't answer.

Another part was terrified that she _would_.

At the end of the second week he found himself in front of her apartment door, pacing anxiously until he finally found the nerve to knock. He remembers how sweaty his hands were, and how words that he doesn't even remember (a tangled mixture of apologies and excuses) fell from his lips in a torrid jumble of sounds. Then she told him that she missed him... And he found himself falling back into her arms, threading his fingers through her hair, and losing himself all over again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Every time he wakes up tangled in her sheets he curses himself and swears that he will be stronger next time – because it is wrong, and it is unfair to both Lisanna and Lucy, and damn it he _knows_ that. He makes promise after silent promise, oath after oath, but he just ends up breaking them all. He just can't imagine life without her. Her friendship, her laughter and her smiles, is the spice to his otherwise bland life. He can't let her go, but he can't seen to keep himself away either.

With every brush of her lips he feels weightless – like everything is _right_ for that mere moment in time. Being with her is the brief pause in the storm, the small window of sunlight, before reality drags him back down. Guilt latches onto his skin like a pack of lead leeches until even the most mundane tasks seem to be too much of an effort. He sees Lucy less. Partly because it has become impossible for him to resist reaching out for the sanctuary she offers him (the sanctuary he doesn't deserve) and partly because he is too ashamed to show himself.

She hasn't had a relationship since their first night together, and he knows that he is the reason why. He is selfishly holding her back, hoarding her affection to himself, even though he knows the right thing would be to let her go. To leave her alone and let her heal, let her _get over him,_ but somehow he can't even manage that. He can't even be the friend that he wants to be, because a good friend would let her go and he just _can't_.

Now, standing in front of her apartment, he stares at the envelope taped to her door, and feels the first stirrings of regret begin to prod at his chest. It's addressed to him in Lucy's neat, curvy script. He's afraid to open it, but he has already tried knocking on the door and was answered only by silence on the other side. He tries to tell himself that she must be out running errands, or that maybe she decided to take an impromptu trip, but every excuse he creates rolls off like rain water.

She hasn't returned his texts for the past week, hasn't accepted his calls either. He had told himself she must just be busy, she'd get back to him when she had some free time, but this morning when he tried to call her phone had been disconnected. Looking at the envelope staring back at him, he feels his pulse race as he takes it with a shaking hand. He had ran up the stairs, down the hall, and his blood is still pulsing swiftly in his veins in response, but now, with the paper sitting his palms, he can hear it pounding in his ears like some sort of tribal drum.

He's not sure how long it takes him to open it, but he's sure it is more than a few minutes. He is torn between wanting to know and being terrified of finding out. When he finally summons the courage, he tears the top with more care than he has opened anything in his life. It takes him another moment to calm the shaking of his hands enough to read her handwriting, and another still for him to process the words.

' _I love you. I'll always love you, but I can't be yours when you were never mine. Please don't look for me – I don't think I would have the strength to leave again._

 _Goodbye and Take Care,_

 _Lucy'_

Dully, he feels his body slide down the wall until he hits the worn hallway carpet. There's a numbness pulling at his limbs, a pressure on his chest that makes him feel like he can no longer breath. It is only when he chokes on a sob that he realizes he is crying. Fat tears burn the corners of his eyes and tighten his throat, but he can't bring himself to care. Lisanna is waiting for him at home with a meal cooked and her arms open and ready to take him in. She loves him. Natsu knows that she loves him. He loves her too, but all he can think of is how he will never see Lucy's smile ever again and suddenly he realizes what he should have the moment his lips met his best friend's.

She's wrong.

Lucy is _wrong_.

He's been hers all along, he always will be, but now it is far too late for her to ever be his.

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 **AN:** As the summary said, this is a companion piece to milkintheam's oneshot "Paramour", so if you haven't already read it then I would highly recommend it. :) I hope I did the original some justice!

Also, don't ask me why, but tenses were a real bitch for this one. So apologies!


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